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“That may be the case, although it’s very early in the investigation. ID has yet to be established.”
I repeated what I’d told the operator about the lightning, the bridge, the severed limbs, and the tattoo.
“The Cay Boys. Yes, that’s one of our”—Musgrove hesitated, perhaps searching for the proper phrase—“local groups.”
I briefed her on the body washed ashore on L’Île Sainte-Hélène.
“Right.”
“We’ll be performing an autopsy on those remains early tomorrow.”
“Right,” she repeated. I got the sense she’d made a decision and just wanted me to finish.
“So that’s it for now. Shall I send you pics?”
“Yes. That would be good.” She provided her email address.
“I’ll keep you in the loop with any—”
“It’s best that I come there.”
“To Montreal?” Her choice surprised me.
“Yes.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“I believe it is.”
“Perhaps you should wait for the results of the morning’s postmortem.”
“I’ll book a weekend flight. If you’ll provide me with your contact information, I’ll send my itinerary.”
I did.
“Perhaps you could suggest a hotel?” she said.
“Colleagues have stayed at the Residence Inn on rue Peel. But I really don’t—”
“I shall see you on Monday.”
Great.
Hosting an out-of-town visitor wasn’t topping my bucket list for the upcoming week.
SATURDAY, JULY6
To use the word “partial” was being generous. Half the cranium, the right limbs, and a good chunk of the thorax were missing.
The good news. The arm, leg, and foot recovered from Bickerdike Basin filled the gaps nicely. There were no duplications between LML 37911-24 and this body, designated LML 37917-24. Everything was consistent between the two cases regarding decomp and anatomical detail.
At 8:40, LaManche and I were suited up in room four beginning the autopsy. Lisa, graciously sacrificing her Saturday off, was assisting. Her presence would speed the process.
Also assisting, though not sufficiently, was the ventilation system. Today’s odor level was making yesterday’s seem like a visit to a florist.
LML 37917-24 had arrived at the morgue wearing shredded and soggy jeans, jockeys, and remnants of a white tee. No jewelry. The one remaining foot was bare.
The man’s pockets were empty save for two very waterlogged bills, a five and a twenty. He carried no wallet or any form of ID. Or none that had survived his time in the river. Or the lightning strike and fall if thiswasthe man from the bridge. The clothing now hung from a drying rack at the side of the room.
